Crossing the Line
by Llmav
Summary: Ally finds Austin in the locker room after his game.


**A/N; This was a suggestion from the lovely Victoria.**

**Hope you guys like it. This is pure smut. Just a warning. **

The bleachers by the larger sized football field were crowded, to say the least, as if everyone and their mother, and perhaps their grandmother too, had decided to attend the last football game of the season. Last game of the season and _his_ last game of high-school. It was the end of an era.

What was _she_ doing there? She wasn't quite sure. Did she like sports? No. No, she did not. She actually kind of despised anything remotely connected to athletics. Well, except for _one_ thing.

She kept telling herself that the reason, and the only reason, she was there was to get a story for the school newspaper. The fact that she was insanely but secretively in love with the starting quarterback had nothing to do with it. Nope. That wasn't the reason. Because that would be _stupid_. Just like her. She was stupid. A stupid girl with a stupid crush.

She was _attracted_ to Austin because he was hot. She was in _love_ with him because he was everything she could ever think of wanting in a boy. Well, half-man. He was an exceptionally handsome sweet-heart, and her experience with love may not stretch further than a few short-term relationships, but even she knew that those men weren't necessarily a dime a dozen but rather one in a billion.

He was _that_ guy. The guy that everyone knew and everyone loved. He was helpful, involved, talented...she knew she was biased, but _had_ she been the type of reporter who owned a thesaurus, she was pretty sure that she would be able to find his name as definitions for lovely, amazing, and sexy as hell.

She didn't know of any female within a fifty-mile radius who hadn't had a crush on him at one point or another, and half of them probably still did at this very moment.

It was beyond her that he was single. Not that she was complaining. It kept the dream alive. Her only dream, really. It was a fairly uncreative one, rather narrow in terms of theme, as they generally just included him. And her.

To her credit, there was some creativity in terms of positions, though.

He went on dates, occasionally, but it never led to anything long-term. She didn't know why, they never discussed their limited love lives with each other, despite talking about _everything_ else.

They had grown up together, a true example of opposites attracting, him; big, tall, blond, athletic, her; petite, short, brunette, and anything but. They were feathers from very different types of birds, yet stubbornly flocking together, a imperfect perfect match made in heaven. They were so very different, yet drawn to each other like flies to horseshit. But in a good way. And decidedly less smelly.

She had been madly in love with him for...a while. Crossing the line from the friend zone into something else, or something _more_, had been a bit more challenging than she would like, mostly because she was a freaking coward and didn't have the guts to tell him how she felt. It was terrifying. She was scared of him not feeling the same, and then she would inescapably loose him as a friend and no no no. Nope. That couldn't happen.

She much rather live in the dreamworld with the illusional possibility of having him than the harsh reality of not ever standing a chance, because her dreams about him were all but painful but a life without him would hurt like burning hell.

The cheer from the crowd snapped her out of her daydreaming just as he threw the ball, a perfectly aimed pass and the wide receiver caught it, scoring the game-tying touchdown. Once again, the crowd went wild, and all she could think of was how hot he looked in those damn tights. That's what drove _her_ wild.

She generally wasn't a fan of extremely tight clothing on men, she preferred something semi-so, but those tights. Not like a glove, but like glue to his body. She wasn't one for doing drugs, but she wanted to sniff him. Inhale him. That ass, she wanted to pinch it, grab it, wrap her legs around it while he was fucking her hard up against...well, anything.

A few seconds left of the game and he ran the ball across the end line, scoring the game-winning touchdown and she actually had to cover her ears from the overly noisy audience that was loudly chanting his name.

She tried to keep track of him but lost sight of him in the crowd.

Crap.

She could call him.

But she wanted to see him.

Smell him.

Congratulate him in person.

...

He had seen her on the bleachers, his heart beating rapidly just from her being there. It was beyond him how the quality of his day was improved by a thousandfold just by her presence. He knew she hated sports, as he knew pretty much everything about her.

And that's why he loved her being there even more.

His teammates made fun of his lack of girlfriend on a regular basis, many of them trying to set him up with the cheerleaders or a myriad of other girls that were probably nice and definitely good looking, but he always turned them down.

They didn't get it.

He had already found the _girl_, just not the confidence needed to ask her out.

She was sexy as hell, without really knowing it, which drove him even more crazy. It was amazing to him how she didn't know the effect she had on him. How did she manage to look so innocent, adorable, yet so freaking _fuckable_, all at the same time?

He had been in love with her for as long as he could remember, and he had a good memory. But despite spending most of the game in possession of the ball, he was a ball-less coward in all circumstances involving her.

Oh, and he really wanted to involve her with his balls.

Focus. Game. Right.

He managed to concentrate on the game for the last few minutes, scoring the winning touchdown as was nearly routine by now.

The cheer of the crowd was ear-deafening, but he was used to it.

He lost track of her as the team carried him into the adjacent locker rooms, still cheering. And despite having just won the most important game of his life, all he could think about was that the night was incomplete, because he hadn't gotten the chance to speak to her.

...

She waited for him outside of the locker rooms, player upon player exiting but still no sign of him. Half an hour later, and she hesitantly decided to enter.

The locker room was probably as appealing as she had imagined, namely not at all, but she couldn't really process it as her eyes had already spotted him.

He was sitting on one of the benches, his head resting in one of his hands, his facial expression one of deep thought, and she soon realized that he was half-way undressed as his upper body was bare. _She_ was already half-way on her way to the insane asylum.

She scanned the rest of the room quickly, concluding that it was empty. He was the last one there.

She cleared her throat and his head snapped up.

"Ally, I..l...what are you doing here?" He made a half-hearted attempt at wiping off the ridiculous smile he was sure to be plastered across his face but was uncharacteristically unsuccessful.

"I'm looking to score an interview with the _star_ player." She sounded a lot more confident than she felt.

He almost blushed, because for some reason that sometimes kept him up at night, her opinion was the _only_ one he cared about. He knew she was mocking him. And she knew him well enough to know that he did not want to be considered a star.

Her talking about scoring made him all sorts of uncomfortable.

He had scored quite a few touchdowns throughout his high-school career.

But he had never scored with Ally -theloveofhislife- Dawson, every attempted pass turning out incomplete.

And yet, scoring with her was the only thing he could think of.

Because she made him complete.

His heart was thundering, having moved from its regular left-side chest placement to his throat the second his eyes registered her. He had just played a crucial game in front of hundreds of people, yet this was the most nervous he had been all night. She turned him into anxious goo. It was quite disgusting.

"Good game. Nice...goal...I mean touchdown...Congrats."

He smiled. He knew she probably couldn't tell him the score of the game, nor the rules of his sport of choice, but he appreciated her effortful attempt at sounding informed.

She was so stinking cute.

She smiled back at him and he was almost blinded by the sunshine that was her.

And then his smile faltered as he recalled the conversation that had just transpired in the locker room a few minutes earlier.

"So, I heard about your prom date".

He had heard much more than he had ever wished for. Dallas had managed to not just brag about her agreeing to go as his date, but also describing what he was planning to do to her, down to every little excruciating detail. He wasn't sure what he was the most upset about; the fact that she had agreed to go to prom with that ass, the fact that he was currently in a state of mind-blackening jealousy, or the fact that he hadn't punched Dallas's nose in.

Not that he could really blame the guy. After all, he wanted to do exactly the same things to her.

She almost looked guilty.

"I've been meaning to tell you, but..." her voice trailed off, as she couldn't come up with one single reason for why she hadn't told him about it.

A few minutes of silence passed, the quietness of the room overwhelmingly uncomfortable.

"Are...are _you_ gonna go?" Why was her voice shaking a little?

Did he want to go to prom? Hmm. With her? Yes. With _anyone_ else? No.

He had thought about asking her, doing so in many ways and hundreds of times over in his mind but in the end always chickening out.

And now it was too late.

"I, well, I'm...I don't know. It doesn't matter, there is no way _you're_ going with that fucking asshole anyways."

She could tell that he was trying hard not to sound mad, but knew he was because she had rarely heard him curse before. Strangely, she liked it. A lot.

"Ok, yeah, because that is _your_ decision."

FUCK, it _should_ be his decision.

"I'm your friend. And I know him. I think you should know that he's not..._nice_." If only he could explain to her somehow that there was no guy on the face of the freaking earth that would be _nice_ enough for her.

She laughed. "Thank you, _friend_, but I happen to want to go to prom. Do you have any other suggestions as of who I should go with?"

YES YES YES he did, but his brain and his voice just wouldn't connect and his mouth stayed shut despite his head's firm instruction to talk.

Why, why, why was he so shy around her?

She interpreted his silence as a confirmation of the negating answer she had anticipated. "Well, that's what I thought. I should get going, congrats again, have fun at the after party."

She was almost at the door, about to step outside when he pulled her back by her hand, turning her around and facing him. Well, kind of. Facing his chest. His bare chest.

She looked up to distract herself from the thought of licking him and her gaze landed on his face. Frick. He was still a little sweaty, not yet having made it to the shower, a few small drops present on his forehead, some larger drops of what she presumed to be sprayed water lingering in his blond, messy hair, his facial expression serious, almost restrained.

His eyes were dark, emotional, hard to read. Amazing.

And in that moment she could care less about their friendship. Truth be told, she had never thought of him just as a friend, it was impossible, she was so attracted to him that she didn't know what to do with herself.

He was close, so very close, she could touch him with the tip of her tongue if she wanted to, if she _dared_ to.

But she didn't.

She was breathing him, smelling him, the air in between them not just electric but downright executioneous. She was being electrocuted, almost as if she was stun-gunned, and she couldn't move.

Not that she wanted to.

He swallowed hard, as if he was trying to gulp down his shyness, or maybe that damn figurative chicken, and it worked because he moved to lean in, accidentally hitting the nearby shelf with his elbow when doing so, knocking down an open bottle of some reddish sports drink, the liquid splashing everywhere as the plastic container bounced off of her chest, turning the front of her white shirt into a replica of a bad attempt at tie dye.

Great. Now she was soaked in more than one place.

He could see the outline of her bra through her shirt.

He wanted to lick the outline of her bra.

"Ally, I'm...I'm so sorry."

She giggled as she was usually the clumsy one.

The red sticky mess was painted into the bare skin of her arms, as well.

"I have to rinse off", she laughed, walking towards the shower.

He followed her, into the shower, his heart still ultra-rapid from the almost kiss that he had conserved confidence for for years.

The sight of her ass moving in front of him made him lose his mind.

Fuck it. It was now or never, the former scary but the later not a valid possibility.

He flipped her around again, quickly, noticing the look of surprise on her face but not allowing her enough time to speak before his lips were fucking finally tasting hers.

She was surprised that he had finally made a move.

Best surprise ever.

His kiss was a big jar of pickles, also known as her own personal paradise. It was hot and sweet, just like him, but she could feel him losing control in the same pace as she was; rapidly.

He pushed her backwards, maybe a little rougher than intended, her back soon hitting the tiled wall of the still steamy showers, his lips not leaving her, his tongue interacting with hers in an international mix of a Swedish massage and French kissing.

Her legs felt broken. Useless. Jellyish. How was she still standing? Oh, right, because he was pressing his body up against hers, pinning her to the tiled wall and alleviating her legs from some of her own weight.

Her hands ran over his back, down to his ass, the second skin tights still in place, before she allowed her fingers to grace the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, outlining his v with her fingernails at exact precision. She was a perfectionist, after all.

He growled loudly into her mouth and she had never heard anything sexier in her whole freaking existence, and for a moment she relished in the control she had over him. It was addictive, making her fell like she wanted to make him growl in pleasure for a year straight.

She broke away to remove her sticky shirt, his much larger hands stopping hers.

"Please, let me", his voice filled with what she could only describe as barely contained desire and his statement more of a plea than a question.

She nodded and he slowly undressed her, leaving her in her underwear and kissing her deeply before she reached to remove his tights while his mouth traced her bra lace in wet strokes.

He pushed her back towards the wall again, her back accidentally hitting the shower button, the hot stream of water soon tricking down their intertwined, naked bodies as his mouth had left hers in favor of his next destination, a little bit further south.

His lips wasn't just tasting her neck, they were close to swallowing her skin in mouthfuls, nibbling, kissing, sucking, unquestionably leaving hickeys but she could care less because his skin was on hers, against hers, and that was all that mattered.

His tongue was rough yet tantalizing, relentless, and she didn't want him to ever stop.

The savor of the skin of her neck was his all-time favorite flavor, he couldn't have enough as he was marking her, almost as if she belonged to him, and for some reason that thought turned him on even more. If he could, he would spell his initials on her neck in blue hickeys, preferably permanent, for the world, her prom date, everyone and their mother, and their grandmother too, to see that she fucking belonged _to_ him. _With_ him.

God, the musical masterpiece of her long string of moans should be recorded and played at his impending funeral, as kissing her was life and yet somehow she was killing him one torturously amazing whimper at a time.

The water must have scared away the bird, because she was now completely and gloriously naked in front of him, wet and naked, up against him, and yet he wasn't shy of nervous but horny as hell.

He reached for her, touching her in places that he had up until now only but frequently dreamed of, massaging her in movements mimicking his in-her-mouth tongue, then dipping a finger into her, her loud moans soon not just echoing in but filling the smallish space to the brim.

Oh, he wanted to fill her to the brim.

Over and over.

The sounds coming out of her mouth sounded unfamiliar even to herself.

"Ally, you have no idea how long I've been dreaming of this", his voice muffled as he was back to sucking on her neck, but he was wrong because she did have an idea, as she would bet that it was for as long as she had been wanting the exact same thing.

She wanted to taste him, as well, her lips soon moving in the direction of the water drops trickling down his chest, his groans from feeling her lips on him not even close to constrained. How the fuck did she do that to him? He had never been so close to completely losing it, he was mere milliseconds away from pushing her down on the wet floor and pound her from here to tomorrow.

"Ally...I...I don't want anyone but you. But if you want to wait, if you want to stop, I..."

She interrupted him in an unusual bout of rudeness, her voice deep with need.

"If you want me, take me. I'm all yours."

There was absolutely no way in hell that she would ask him to stop.

_IF_?

"Believe me, Ally, I really, really, really _want_ you."

And then he lifted her up, as if she was weightless, and she kind of felt like she was, her instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist, a perfect fit, her body rather than his tights now glued to him.

She reached for him, guiding him into herself, him gruntingly pushing his hard dick slowly inside of her, inadvertently and ultimately crossing the friend zone line, not just breaking it but erasing it so thoroughly that any return was rendered eternally impossible, and perhaps it was just as well, because there was no way he would ever be able to look at her in a friendly way ever again.

He moved, tentatively, slowly at first, out of necessity as he didn't want it to end before it had really started.

She couldn't do anything but scream as he filled her, repetitiously, his name coming out as a hiss from her by kissing swollen lips, on replay but increasingly louder with each repetitious dick thrust.

He joined her, screaming the only thing that came to his mind, as his head was flooded with her, "_Alllllyyy_", chanting louder than the crowd outside just a mere hour ago.

One life-changing hour ago.

Her hands fisted into his blond hair, tugging roughly with each thrust until she came, her ass rubbing up against the tiled wall in haphazard twitches as she experienced one of his many skills first hand.

He exploded inside her, not sure of whether he still had his eye sight or a functioning brain, panting as if he had played a few consecutive games yet ready for another match immediately.

So...that had been amazing.

...

They were in the locker room, unsure of what to say or do as they dried off on a couple of towels.

"I have nothing to wear", she sounded half-panicky, realizing that all her clothes were soaked and that she would have a lot of explaining to do of she showed up at her house naked.

He walked towards his locker, the towel now wrapped around his waist, reaching for something.

"Here," and he threw her one of his jerseys. A clean one. She put it on, drowning in its size.

He almost took her again up against his locker, because he had never ever seen anything sexier than her dressed in his jersey. And nothing else.

"I..I'll need something for...the bottom...too..." She was blushing.

It was cute.

He thought for a minute before handing her a clean pair of his boxers.

"Im sorry, I think this is the best I can do", and she nodded, hesitantly putting them on underneath her towel, rolling the waistband a few times to make them at least semi-fit.

He walked her to her car, because he wanted to. "Ally...I..." How was he shy around her again?

"What?"

"Come to the after party with me?"

She looked down, his shirt an improvised short-hemmed dress on her petite frame, his boxers peeking out from underneath.

She couldn't go anywhere like that.

And besides, her head was spinning, her body a weak mess from what had just happened between them. She needed to process things. She shook her head.

"I have to get home", pointing to her all but appropriate attire.

He nodded, thinking. "I...I kind of have to go."

She nodded. She understood. He was the star player, after all. Whether that's what he wanted to be perceived as or not.

She went to hug him goodbye, wanting to kiss him but the million unanswered questions of her racing mind preventing her from doing so.

He hugged her and had to, with great effort, push away the thought of fucking her up against her car out of his by her messed up head.

...

She pulled into her driveway, walking the few steps up to her house in slow-motion as her brain and her spaghetti body weren't cooperating very well.

What a fucking night.

She was blushing by herself, recalling how she had screamed out his name while he was moving inside of her. She had been waiting for is for years, and it had been well worth the wait. But now she wanted more, as if he had set off something in her body, maybe a virus, and he was the only known cure.

She should have gone to the party with him. She already missed him. Why was she so stupid?

She snuck into her house, quickly sneaking off towards her room beofre anyone clild see her.

She opened the door to her room, sighing, then almost having a heart attack as she realized that there was someone in there, most likely a man as the silhouette of large,stretched out body was clearly visual on her bed in the almost completely darkened room.

She recognized his voice before she could see him.

"Hi there".

Her heartbeat could be heard from outside the house, she was sure of it.

"What are you doing here?" If smiling with your voice was a thing, she was doing it.

"Waiting for you. Man, you're a slow driver."

"How did you get in?"

"Your window".

She smiled. He had used that window as a door since they were little kids.

"What about the party?"

He shook his head in the darkness. "There is nowhere else where I want to be."

And as she approached the bed he reached for her, pulling her down on the bed and into a hug, not yet kissing her as he had something to ask her.

"Ally, will you go to prom with me?" It may not be as perfect as he had planned in his mind, or as special or unique, but it was imperfectly perfect. Just like them.

Her three letter answer was shy but joyful, and as he kissed her, he could no longer recall the outcome of tonight's game, but he knew without a doubt that he was a winner, that the chickens were forever locked away and that she, in less than one months time, would spend both the prom and prom night with nobody but him.

He had scored more than a touchdown, indeed.


End file.
